Old Enemies
by slim95
Summary: A continuation of the story New Year. Robert and Anna set out to recover what they lost in 1992 after the explosion.
1. Chapter 1

This is a continuation of my story _New Year_. I'm a bit nervous to be taking the plunge again . . . but here I go!

* * *

><p>Anna checked her hair in the full length mirror outside the bathroom, practiced a smile, and remembered to remove her cardigan, tossing it carelessly on the back of a nearby chair.<p>

She walked back to the bed, sat down on it, crossed her legs. She carefully arranged her laptop, ensuring the webcam pointed away from the hotel suite's large window. She forced herself to smile again, chose her contact, left-clicked, waited for the call to be answered, for an image to appear on the screen.

It finally did.

"Mom!" Robin's voice, Robin's face. And next to her, Emma. "It's so good to hear from you! It's been almost a week. I thought you were going to call us as soon as you got there. I was getting worried."

"We miss you, Grandma," Emma added, serious. "When will you be home again?"

Anna responded with a smile that was genuine, though slightly sad. She hoped Robin would think the sadness feigned. "I miss you too, Pumpkin. But Grandma just left on her trip, so I won't be back for a little while. Remember I promised to buy you a really nice present? I haven't found the right one yet."

Robin grinned. "I have a feeling it's going to take Grandma a few weeks of lying on the beach drinking Piña Coladas . . ."

Ann shook her head, corrected her. "Mai tais."

Robin laughed. ". . . to find you the perfect gift, Emma. And remember, Grandma's tired. She's gone away to rest. We miss her, but we're happy she's finally taking a vacation. She works too hard."

"To no success," Anna mumbled.

But Robin heard her. "Everything is fine here, Mom. I think the media have completely forgotten about the shootings. It's almost as though they never happened. Not one of those reporters, those vultures, cared about justice for any of the victims, especially not for Sonny"

Anna felt the muscles in her right shoulder tighten. She'd never understood her daughter's affection for Corinthos. And yet, she recognized her own responsibility for that affection. Robin never would have turned to Sonny if Anna had been in Port Charles while her daughter was still young, impressionable, and vulnerable.

"I know _you_ did your best to catch his murderer. And we both know what Giordano's disappearance means. He'll never pay for his crimes because he's dead."

Swimming with the fishes, Anna thought, his body weighted down somewhere at the bottom of Port Charles harbour. Good riddance. Detective Gauthier of the Montreal police service had uttered an expletive, then a partial prayer of gratitude to Saint Jude, patron of lost causes, when she'd telephoned with news of Giordano's probable death.

All she said was, "Let's not discuss this in front of Emma, Robin."

Robin pulled her daughter onto her lap and stroked her hair. "Emma's a big girl now, Mom. And she knows all about the family business. Don't you, Bud?"

Emma nodded solemnly. Anna felt her heart drop a bit.

"Well, it's not the family business right at the moment," she said brightly. "Grandma's off the clock. Shall I describe the beautiful villa I'm sitting in right now? Or would you be too jealous if I told you how wonderful it is here in Montserrat?"

Robin rolled her eyes. "Good grief, Mom, I don't want to _hear_ about it. I want to _see_ it! Why not walk around with your laptop and show us?"

Anna shook her head. "Sorry, I can't do that. The battery's practically gone – I forgot to charge it, and all I have with me is my short travel cord. So my description will have to suffice. Close your eyes and imagine what I'm about to describe. Close them. Both of you. Emma, no peeking."

Robin laughed, put her hands over her daughter's eyes.

Anna then shut her own. "Okay, so this place is up on a cliff, and there's a terrific view outside the sliding doors in the living room. There's ocean on three sides. The most beautiful blue you can imagine stretches as far as your eye can see. There's a reef about a half a mile out, and you can see the waves crashing up against it, and then the water from there to the shore is calm, almost flat, so lovely. I can hear the sound of the water when I sit out on the patio beside the pool. And when I'm in the water, Emma, it almost looks as though I'm in the ocean because I can't see the edge of the cliff at all."

"It's an infinity pool, Emma," Robin explained. "She knows what that is, Mom. We watch _House Hunters_ all the time."

"I sometimes forget how sophisticated you are, Pumpkin," Anna apologized. "So, there's an infinity pool here, Emma, and I like to sit in it and imagine I'm swimming in the ocean."

"You can't swim," Robin corrected. "You're a terrible swimmer."

"Well, I don't really have the body for swimming," Anna admitted. "I sink more than I float. But that's neither here nor there. It's really very lovely. And when I get out of the pool, I can go out into the side garden. There are avocado and mango trees here. I had an absolutely luscious papaya for breakfast this morning."

"Ooh, _luscious_," Robin mocked.

"Quiet, you," Anna laughed, her eyes still shut, picturing the scene herself. "And at night I sit and watch the sunset. The sun flames up red and gold just before it slips down under the horizon. If there are clouds, they glow pink and yellow, and everything becomes really calm. I don't know why, but when the sun sets, the wind dies down, the waves go quiet, even the birds go quiet, and everything becomes still."

Anna stopped speaking. The three generations of women sat silent together for a moment.

Then Anna opened her eyes. "It's really very peaceful. It's just what I need right now."

Robin opened her eyes. "I'm glad, Mom."

Emma opened her eyes last. "It's okay if you don't come home right away, Grandma. It sounds really nice there."

Anna smiled. "Thank you, Emma. But I promise you I won't stay away for very long."

Robin kissed the top of her daughter's head. "It's nice of you to tell Grandma she can stay, Sweetheart," she said to Emma, and then, asked her mother, "Where's Dad? Can we say hi to him too?"

Anna hoped her smile didn't change, still looked natural and not forced. "He's completely exhausted, Robin. Last time I checked he was snoozing by the pool. I think he's been over-exerting himself a bit."

Robin shuddered. "Okay, this time I'll insist: let's not discuss this in front of Emma, Mom."

Anna was nonplussed. "I'm sure I don't have any idea what you think I meant, but to clarify: he's been overdoing his rehabilitation. We've been training again – Karate, Krav Maga. He runs every morning. I tell him he's pushing too hard, but he won't listen, of course. He's trying to regain some of what he lost while in the coma."

"You're both supposed to be resting."

"You'll get no argument from me. Since we agree, and since your father's finally doing just that, let's leave him be for now. I'll tell him we talked. I promise he'll call you later." Anna changed the subject. "I'm sure he'll be interested to know how your interview went. Did you get the position?"

Robin didn't smile, she beamed. "Yes I did. You're looking at the newest member on faculty at Port Charles University: I'm an honest-to-god part-time associate professor of Medicine. I start in a month, at the beginning of the new term. I lecture two days a week, do rounds at the hospital two days a week, and spend Fridays in the lab. I'm so excited."

Anna put her hand to her mouth and shook her head. "Oh my god," she exclaimed, more shrilly than she'd intended. "That's so wonderful. My baby girl's a professor. I'm so proud!"

She and Robin smiled at each other across the miles. Then Emma began to fidget. Robin looked down, then up again. "I love you, Mom. But we should go. I should get Emma's supper."

Anna nodded. "I love you back, my girl. And I promise I'll be home soon."

Robin's hand reached out toward her computer. Before she disconnected, she said, "Tell Dad I love him too."

Anna nodded again. "And my love to Patrick."

The screen went dark. Anna shut her computer, held it in her lap for a moment before putting it down on the bed. She unfolded her legs, stood, up, and looked out the window. Only the sky was blue. She gazed down across a wide street busy with traffic to a park crowded with paths, deciduous trees (not palms), a fantastic sculpture. The only water in the scene before her poured from a fountain that once stood proudly in Trafalgar Square.

Anna walked over to collect her cardigan and put it on. No cool tropical breezes here, just excessive air conditioning that overcompensated for oppressive heat and humidity.

Waves of hot air shimmered up off the pavement, distorting her view of the park. She checked her cell phone – no messages.

* * *

><p>Three hours later there was a knock at her door. She rushed to answer it.<p>

Robert stood in the hallway.

"Thank god," Anna said, beckoning him in; "I was so worried." She shut the door behind him. "Why didn't you tell me you were going out? Where the hell did you go? This morning when I first realized you'd left . . ." – she reached for his hand; he allowed her to take it but didn't grasp hers back – ". . . I panicked. You promised me you wouldn't do this again, wouldn't go off on your own."

Robert extricated himself, walked further into the room toward the bed, and sat down. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I had to see someone. I didn't think it would take this long."

Anna followed and sat down beside him. "Had to see someone? Who? I should have come along. We agreed we'd watch each others' backs."

Robert shook his head. "No. It was an old acquaintance, someone I could trust, someone nervous about being exposed. I couldn't take you. I had to go alone."

Anna pressed her hand on Robert's thigh. "Who, Robert? Did he have information for us? What did you think he might know?"

Robert looked away. Anna pulled back. "I thought this person might be able to confirm that your," he grimaced, "doctor finally surfaced here. Though I still think we're barking up the wrong tree."

Anna put her hands in her lap and looked down at them. "We have no alternative, Robert. According to my file she may have come here. We at least have to check out the possibility."

"Bloody WSB," Robert growled, "couldn't find their collective ass with their collective hands in their collective back pockets."

"We have no other lead. What did your acquaintance say?"

Robert looked up and into Anna's eyes. "She said she'd find out what she can. She'll look through the files at the College of Physicians and Surgeons, see if she can find a certificate of registration to practice medicine issued within six months of . . ." – Robert paused, couldn't bring himself to say. "Anyway, she'll look for any description that fits the information in your file. She'll pass along all references to middle-aged female doctors applying in 1992 or 1993 from out-of-country to practice medicine. I suspect the list won't be very long."

Anna noted the pronoun but didn't comment. "Our target might have falsified her documents, might have claimed to have an in-country medical degree."

Robert shook his head. "It would be too easy for the authorities to check and too difficult for her to manage confirmation at the source here. If she worked for the WSB even for a short time, she likely had connections and could have arranged for counterfeit documents to be sent from somewhere in the United States."

"So we wait," Anna concluded. "How long will it take your source to check the files?"

"She didn't know. A week at least. She may have to be on-site, access paper archives."

"And she has the clearance to do that kind of thing?"

"If she didn't," Robert answered tersely, "I wouldn't have asked for her help."

Anna went quiet. After an awkward silence, Robert stood and announced, "I'm tired. I'm going back to my room for a rest."

Just before he reached the door, Anna said, "Our daughter got the job. She was over the moon. You should call to congratulate her."

Robert stopped for a moment, his back to her, and stood with his shoulders hunched.

"Remember, we're in Montserrat. Tell her that for some reason Skype stopped working on my computer. Use your cell phone. And if she asks for me, tell her I'm in the bath. Or better yet, call her the next time we're in a room together for more than ten minutes. Whenever you'd like that to be."

Robert opened the door and left. Anna turned and stared again at the park outside her window.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone for their encouragement! A HUGE thanks to robertannafan: I'm writing to try to put the hundreds of hours I've spent on your site watching videos to good use (so many happy, happy hours!).

I had decided weeks ago to set the opening of the story in Ottawa. Yesterday there was a terror attack on Parliament. The images in the news have been shocking to anyone who's ever visited or lived in that beautiful, peaceful city.

* * *

><p>At 9:00 the sun had set and Anna was feeling restless. She changed into her running gear and headed out into the thick, still-warm evening air, hoping to work out the vibrating, buzzing tension in her nerves, or, poor substitute, exhaust herself enough that she could sleep.<p>

She crossed the street and entered the park, running past the fountain and along the lighted paths until she reached the canal. Here she turned right. The canal water was smooth; everything was quiet; there was no wind, not even the slightest breeze. Anna's face was already wet with perspiration, her hair clinging to her forehead, her cheeks. She brushed it away as best she could, and set a steady pace. All along the canal, dimly lighting her way, lamps glowed white and round from above and, when the path veered close enough and no trees blocked her view, reflected up at her from the water. Cicadas sang in the trees. Anna felt her feet hitting the pavement, hard. She pushed herself forward. She'd run as far and as long as she was able, she decided.

* * *

><p>Robert lay on his bed not watching the television, which was on. He didn't know what else to do.<p>

He thought about Anna in her room. He thought about the revelations of the last two weeks.

He thought about their son.

A son who might be normal or who might have been . . . damaged by the explosion. A son who might be free or who might be a prisoner. A son who might be alive or who might be dead.

The other child they'd wanted, planned for, hoped for. A child they'd lost.

He thought about Anna. He thought about the lies. He thought about all the pain.

* * *

><p>Anna had reached the lake, her chosen turn-around point. She crossed the bridge to get to the opposite side of the canal and headed back toward the city centre. She wasn't entirely sure how safe the path was here and partly hoped someone would confront her, threaten her. She could use an outlet for her frustration and anger. She could use an encounter with someone who deserved to be taken down. She'd enjoy surprising a thug who mistook her for an easy mark. She didn't have her gun, but then she didn't need it.<p>

* * *

><p>Robert turned off the television and walked to look out his window at the lights of the city. He'd been here only once before, years ago, and only for a single day. It had been the first step Robert had taken back to her, the first step he'd taken to learn the truth about Anna, about their marriage, and about her betrayal. The city was different now, more energetic and more alive. Back then it had been a sleepy backwater, astonishing for the capital of a nation. It had been a place agents went to die – or were sent to be disciplined, or to hide. Robert suspected Bronson had been sent there as punishment after the debacle in the Paris shipyard. He'd been one of Anna's handlers. And Robert had shot him almost dead.<p>

Then in 1985 Robert travelled to corroborate Anna's story that she'd been forced to complete her final assignment as a DVX agent to save his life.

Bronson had been quite forthcoming, even jovial. Yes, she'd tried to leave the DVX. Yes, they'd threatened her with the death of her new husband. Yes, she'd been compliant, amenable, obedient. Anything to keep her beloved husband safe.

Why did Robert care after all these years? Bronson had asked him. Why did it matter?

What he should have asked was why Robert hadn't cared for all those years before, why he hadn't questioned or wondered or suspected there was more going on than he'd been told, or been inclined to believe.

Robert wondered if Bronson was still alive and did a quick mental calculation. If he were, he'd be at least ninety years old.

* * *

><p>No one approached her, no one stopped her. Damned polite country. She could see the lights of the downtown centre both sparkling in front of her and reflected below in the canal. She was glad she was almost back at the hotel. She suddenly felt weary and very, very alone. She wanted a shower and her bed.<p>

She wanted Robert. She wanted home.

She pushed through her exhaustion and ran even faster.

* * *

><p>Robert sat down heavily in an armchair near the window. It was uncomfortable, a hotel chair, an item of furniture required by the space but practically useless and therefore, Robert was pretty sure, almost never used.<p>

He thought of Anna again. He remembered two moments: when she'd told him she hadn't been pregnant when Faison kidnapped her and when she'd told him the child taken from her in 1992 was in fact not hers but theirs.

* * *

><p>Wanting to avoid other guests, Anna took the stairs to the eighth floor. She struggled to free her key card from the security pocket of her running shorts, slowed, and stopped at Robert's door. She stood there for a moment. She hesitated. Then she knocked softly.<p>

* * *

><p>Robert heard the knock but didn't move, almost didn't breathe. He hoped she wouldn't knock again.<p>

* * *

><p>She didn't. She waited for a moment, then swept a hand angrily through her damp hair. Sweat had trickled down from her forehead; it stung her eyes. She walked down the hallway to her own room and, vision blurred, somehow managed to insert the card into the lock, opening the door. Ashamed, she slipped from the hallway into the darkness of her hotel room.<p>

* * *

><p>So many lies.<p>

That she'd betrayed him for the money, nothing more. That she'd been scarred, not that she'd chosen to do penance. That their lives weren't intertwined, that he could resume his simple life with Holly once she'd left. That the mysterious man on Spoon Island was only the writer P.K. Sinclair. That she could handle Cesar Faison and prevent him from revealing their secrets. That he was no longer a threat. That they could choose not to let him ruin their lives. And most recently, that his actions over twenty years before hadn't caused them to lose anything more than each other.

But there were still others. That Shaun hadn't known the identity of the double agent. That the Swede was dead. That Anna had willingly left with Faison; that they were lovers. That the WSB was caring for Anna after the explosion. That Robert's loyalty was the price of her safety and recovery.

He'd let himself believe every one of those goddamned lies. He hadn't questioned any of them because he'd been a coward, because he'd wanted to believe the truth was uncomplicated, or because he'd wanted to believe his cynical, self-righteous opinions of the world were true.

Others had lied to manipulate him. But she had lied – every time – to protect him.

He'd let them use him. He'd let her shield him from difficult truths. He'd let her protect him. And how had he repaid her? He'd let her down.

When he hadn't believed their lies anymore – that Anna was still brain-damaged, that she was progressing but slowly, that she therefore still needed their care – he'd assumed she was dead. Again he'd chosen a simple truth, a truth that absolved him of guilt for his inaction and allowed him to justify further inaction.

But what if he'd looked for her when he'd first begun to doubt? What if he had found her? Would she have remembered sooner? Would she have considered him strong enough to know what had happened? Would she have trusted him with the truth?

Back then, if she had, he might have deserved the truth and her trust. But he didn't now.

* * *

><p>Anna stripped her clothes as she walked to the bathroom – running top, bra, shorts, underwear, socks. Each item of clothing lay on the floor exactly where she'd left it discarded. She didn't have the energy anymore to care. She turned the shower on full force and stepped in.<p>

The water was as hot as she could stand it. She leaned into the stream and felt its pressure at the top of her head and hairline. It ran down her face, making it difficult for her to breathe. As she stood there, she remembered Robert's expression when she'd told him the child stolen from her was not Faison's but his. And she had a sudden, clear realization: this time, she thought, Robert won't forgive me.

* * *

><p>Robert stood up. He walked to the door of his room. He walked quietly down the hallway to Anna's. He stood there for a moment, unsure. Then he knocked softly.<p>

* * *

><p>Anna didn't hear him.<p>

* * *

><p>He didn't knock again. He walked back to his room, ashamed.<p> 


End file.
